I stopped my routine, stood up straight, and looked at Marshall. “You look flustered. You want me to stop?”
“Yes, please. It’s not helping me focus at all.” She waited until she had my complete attention before resuming. “It seems your friend, Larry, is quite good at getting things done.”
“Oh?”
“A lot of people don’t know this, but call logs are considered business records and are not protected by the Fourth Amendment. Agent Armour used that fact to push a subpoena through requesting call logs on some of the players in this mess: George Mansfield, Evan Baxter, and your friend, Boyd Dallas. Boyd’s phone provider had nothing. It appears he hasn’t been home for weeks. Mansfield’s phone provider refused to comply until Armour quoted case law at them. They said they would get him the records in a couple of days. The local phone company here in Dubuque was much more cooperative. They faxed Baxter’s call logs within the hour. Guess who called who within the last week.”
Marshall had a wicked smile on her face. The kind of smile that told me we would never guess. Jessica and I shrugged.
“The night of August 31st, a Wednesday, Evan Baxter had an incoming call from Washington, D.C. From none other than George Mansfield.”
“That’s the same day I met with Mansfield. Did he call Baxter to warn him I was coming?” I asked rhetorically.
Marshall continued, “The phone company was sending the pages over in reverse chronological order, meaning Larry had to wait to see if there was any other communication. Guess what? Every year on November 8th since Shelley’s death, one of those two men has called the other.”
“Special Agent Ann Marshall,” I said, not even trying to hide my obvious Cheshire grin, “how are your interrogation skills?”
CHAPTER 19
“That’s it? You want me to meet with Evan Baxter, show my badge, and question him. I could have done that without your help.” Agent Marshall was failing to understand the full significance of her news. We finally had something we could use. Some information that might provide us leverage. “Do you think he’ll roll over and say ‘Yes, my sister is alive and here’s where she’s hiding? Oh, and here’s how to find Boyd. Is there anything else I can do for you, Special Agent Marshall?’“
“Are you through, Marshall? I suppose I have two of you to question every decision now. You’re as bad as Jessica.” I wasn’t angry with Marshall, although the prospect of two devil’s advocates was making my head spin a little. “You have a badge; use it. Do your thing.”
“My thing?”
“Come on, don’t go all soft in the head on me now. Do whatever it is you’ve been doing to me this whole time. Screw with his head. You have an innate ability to read people. Almost as if you are clairvoyant at times, making you’re the perfect person for the job. Not only should this be easy for you, but I’ll also bet it will even be fun.”
“I’m su—.”
“Look,” I interrupted, “I’m not saying he will give up any information. He most likely won’t. But scare him. Scare him real good. Make him think the FBI is getting close. Make him uncomfortable.” I winked at Jessica as I said uncomfortable. “Just because he doesn’t tell you anything directly doesn’t mean his actions won’t tell us plenty.”
Marshall paced around the room a few times considering what she was being asked to do before plopping down into one of the hotel room chairs. “Is this how you would do it if I weren’t around?”
“I don’t understand your apprehension, Marshall. I’m practically following the FBI playbook to the letter. This is exactly what the FBI tried to do to me. They tried to find out what and who I knew, hoping they could use that knowledge against me. Then, they leaned on me, trying to scare me hoping I’d change their mind.”
“The FBI’s plan didn’t work.”
“Of course not; I don’t scare.”
“True,” Marshall said, “you don’t scare easily.”
Jessica said, “No, Legend doesn’t scare. That’s why the FBI failed with him. All they managed to do was piss him off. And a mad Legend is a dangerous Legend.” Not a hint of boasting in her voice. Nothing but pride in her man.
Marshall shook her head. “Oh, to dig into your psyche. What a trip that would be. So, what if your idea doesn’t work?”
“Then, we go nuclear. A three-pronged attack — the FBI, Jessica pretending to be an investigative reporter, and me.”
“What are you planning on bringing to the table, McCain?”
“I will make Baxter, or Mansfield, depending on who you and Larry decide I should go after, an offer he shouldn’t refuse.”
Marshall said, “I’ve seen that movie. I thought it was an offer he couldn’t refuse.”
Jessica smiled. “Legend gives them a choice. They usually choose wisely.”
Marshall said, “Meaning if my tactics don’t work, we still have L.T. in reserve.”
Jessica nodded. “Now you’re getting it.”
Marshall shook her head as she contemplated the meaning behind my statement. She didn’t look concerned about the possibility of violence against Baxter or Mansfield. It was more a look of curiosity. “When do we get started?”
“As soon as possible. Early tomorrow. Hopefully, we will be able to locate Baxter tomorrow.”
“How about tonight?” Marshall asked.
“It’s almost nine o’clock on a Sunday. This is Iowa. People do go to sleep around here.”
“Meaning when he comes by my room in twenty minutes, I shouldn’t start then?” Marshall laughed at Jessica and me. “Did I forget to tell you? I have a date with him tonight.” She used finger quotes on the word date. “It seems being a nightclub owner means nine o’clock isn’t all that late.”
“What the hell? “I said. “How? When? Why? No, answer those questions later. We have to get you back to your room.”
“We got time. I’m staying in your hotel.” Marshall’s trademark smirk was in full effect as she watched our reaction. “And I say we stop wasting time and go with the trifecta. Jessica and I will start with Baxter. She can be an investigative reporter assisting the FBI, as you suggested. We’ll let you have at Baxter after he leaves. You can decide on your approach.”
“But...” I said.
Marshall reached into her pocket, withdrew a small item, and threw it at me. “Here, FBI issue. I think you’ll be able to hear everything we say.” It was an earpiece. “I’m not giving you a mic; I don’t want you in my head as I lay my wrath down upon poor Evan Baxter.”
***
Jessica looked at Special Agent Marshall with a mixture of awe and frustration. Just when she thought they were the ones leading the investigation, Marshall had outplayed them again. She had made plans to meet with Evan Baxter that evening and didn’t immediately share the information with them. She should have opened up the conversation with that. It seemed what anyone who wasn’t trying to work an angle on their partners would have done. Legend was right not to trust her too much.
Jessica said, “So have you known where Baxter has been all day?”
“Sure, he was at a friend’s house watching football. Today was the first day of the regular season. We can talk about that later. For now, Jessica, you will be a reporter for the Washington Post. You are the one who tipped the FBI off about Shelley Baxter.”
“When were you planning on telling us about your little date with Evan?”
“Right after I told you about the phone call.” Marshall stopped to stare at Jessica, seemingly sensing her irritation and lack of trust. “I promise. He only called about forty minutes ago. He wanted to know if he could come by personally to apologize for his odd behavior last night. I told him there was no time like the present, and he agreed. I was coming down to say something to you guys when Armour called. I brought the earpiece, didn’t I?”
Jessica thought about Marshall’s last bit of information. She had come prepared to let them listen in on her evening with Evan Baxter. Maybe she had been too quick to judge.
“Let me get to my room. I’ll tell you guys over my mic when I want Jessica to come down.” She stopped to look at Jessica and Legend. “Are we good.”
Legend said, “We’re good. Happy hunting, Marshall.” Legend waited for the door to close before addressing Jessica. “Are you up for this? It’s late notice. We can push it until tomorrow.”
“God, no. That poor guy thinks he’s coming over for, well, who knows what he thinks he’s coming for, but can you imagine the shit storm about to hit him when Marshall reveals she’s with the FBI. If that doesn’t make him uncomfortable, then I don’t know what will.”
“Alright, let’s do this.”
Legend grabbed the earpiece, turned it on, and shoved it in his ear. He gave Jessica a big thumbs up, telling her he could already hear Marshall babbling into her microphone.
Jessica was surprised she wasn’t more anxious. Going undercover, playing a role wasn’t something she had done before. Sure, she had fooled Nick Marino, but not by taking on a fake identity. She had simply strategically concealed information from Marino. For Legend, it seemed almost effortless. She marveled at his ability to slip into a role. She had asked him about it once. About how he justified lying to people. Thou shall not lie was one of the ten commandments.
Legend quickly corrected her, reminding her the commandment was actually thou shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. She understood the distinction, although she still wasn’t quite sure it was right. Her husband followed up by saying it was kind of like the sixth commandment: thou shall not murder. Jessica thought about the use of the word murder. Last year, she had shot and killed a man who was trying to kill Legend. His death was justified. It was necessary to kill him to save Legend’s life. After that, she understood his point.
“Someone has knocked on her door,” Legend said. “It’s Baxter. He’s inside.” Legend was relaying the conversation to her as he heard it through the earpiece. Baxter was asking her if she was okay, if she had experienced any more trouble from her boyfriend. Legend said he sounded nervous. “Marshall excused herself to the restroom. She’s ready for you. Good luck. Room 321.”
Jessica kissed her husband and stepped out into the hall. The word cojones came to mind. Agent Marshall had them in spades — the crazy woman was not only staying in the same hotel, but she was also on the same floor. Directly around the next corner.
She paused for a second outside Marshall’s room, took in a few deep breaths to collect herself, and knocked. A few seconds later, Marshall opened the door and winked at her. She entered the room to find Baxter sitting with a dumbfounded look on his face. It appeared Marshall had started the show without her.
“Baxter,” Marshall said, “I’d like you to meet the reporter who tipped me off to the reports your sister might be alive.”
“I don’t care if she tipped off Woodward and Bernstein to the Watergate scandal.” He stared at Jessica, examining her for a few seconds. “From the bar last night.”
He no longer looked dumbfounded. He looked angry and defiant. Not exactly like a guy who looked uncomfortable. Not at all like someone bound to be helpful.
Marshall said, “We have phone records showing contact between you and George Mansfield.”
“What’s your point? He was my brother-in-law. Is there a law against talking to a guy who was married to your sister?”
“This is the point in the conversation, Baxter, where it’s best if you let me, the FBI Special Agent, ask the questions.”
“Special Agent Marshall, I’m failing to understand the significance of your questions.”
“You fail to understand why the FBI is interested in finding out what happened to your sister?”
“No, I’m glad you’re interested in finding my sister’s killer. It’s been seven years, and the FBI has never given me any indication her murder was still being investigated. I’ve always assumed the FBI gave up trying to solve that horrible mystery. But suddenly, here you are talking to me about phone conversations with George Mansfield sounding accusatory. You have phone records, look it up. We talk every year on my sister’s birthday. Plus, you screw with my emotions by implying my sister might be alive. I liked it better when I thought you were doing nothing.”
Baxter’s eyes watered up as he spoke. Jessica was starting to feel empathetic toward him until she remembered what Legend had told her about being mean once you applied the leverage.
Jessica said, “Baxter, I don’t know what Special Agent Marshall has told you. All I know is that Boyd Dallas, a close and personal friend, met with you. After meeting with you, he informed me he had found the missing person he was hired to find. Shortly after, Boyd went missing.”
“So, I had nothing to do with his disappearance.”
Marshall said, “Maybe, maybe not. The FBI will find out.”
Jessica said, “You know we are here because of Mansfield, right?”
“He gave me a friendly heads up someone might be coming. A big guy. Real threatening looking.”
“He didn’t tell you about the FBI, though, huh? Did he tell you he’s talked with the FBI, with a Special Agent Armour?”
“No.”
“Do you think Mansfield is your friend? The big guy he mentioned, he’s the investigator I hired after Boyd went missing. You saw him last night. Special Agent Armour threw a drink in his face. I can understand why she did it. I didn’t hire him because he knows how to talk to a lady. I hired him because he’s good at what he does. He knows how to find people, and when he finds them, he knows how to make them talk.” Jessica imagined her husband laughing as he listened to her talk about him as if he were nothing more than a tool in the process.
“Once again, so what?”
“It worked on Mansfield. Do you know what Mansfield told my investigator? He believes your sister is still alive, and that she faked her death as part of a long con to rip him off for three million dollars seven years ago. Does that sound like the actions of a friend?” Jessica added.
Jessica noticed the first crack in the veneer of defiance surrounding Baxter.
Marshall chimed in. “Here we are, Baxter — a determined FBI agent, an investigative reporter with the juice to make this public if need be, and a private detective with a reputation for...well, let’s say, a reputation for results. Not looking good for you.”
“I could not care any less about you and your little gang. I loved my sister. She’s gone. Nothing will change that. As for your friend, Mr. Dallas, he was here. I told him the same thing I’m telling you right now. If you find my sister, thank you. I’d love to have her back in my life. She was the only real family I had left.”
Baxter stood up and stared at the two women. Pupils dilated, nostrils flared. The crack in his veneer looked to be gone. “Now, since I no longer owe you an apology for last night, I’m leaving.”
Marshall said, “Fine. Go. Know this, it’s been seven years since that money disappeared. The funny thing about that money. All this time without a lead. Until recently. Some bills finally popped. In Wisconsin of all places. The same place Mr. Dallas was last seen. The same place where Mr. Dallas’s rental car was found shot up.”
Baxter walked to the door without commenting or looking back.
“One last thing, Baxter, when you talk to Mansfield, ask him who hired Boyd Dallas in the first place.” Marshall managed to get out the last word before Baxter walked out the door.
Jessica waited for the door to shut before turning to Marshall. “How do you think it went?”
“Honestly, I have no idea. Evan Baxter doesn’t rattle easy.”
Jessica was thinking the same thing. “Alright, Legend,” she said into the air, “it’s your turn. Good luck.”
***
I heard Jessica ask Agent Marshall how she felt the meeting with Mansfield had gone, and I heard Marshall’s reply. Neither sounded confident with the outcome. From my perspective, Baxter had sounded more defiant than defensive, which seemed appropriate given the circumstances. I f
elt Baxter had behaved in much the same way I would have in the same situation.
While the women were meeting with Baxter, I had slipped out of the hotel to locate Baxter’s Land Rover. The high quality of the FBI microphone had allowed me the freedom to leave the hotel while still listening to the conversation. I was currently sitting in my BMW waiting for Baxter to leave the hotel.
Three minutes after Jessica wished me luck, Baxter exited the front door of the hotel. It didn’t take an expert in reading body language to know Baxter was angry. From fifty yards, his walk gave him away. He stomped across the parking lot to his Land Rover, opened the front door, and suddenly stopped, remaining motionless for several seconds before turning around to scan the parking lot. I was forced to recline my front seat back as far as it would go to avoid detection. Baxter kept up his survey of the parking lot for over a minute, his eyes stopping several times to focus on anything he thought might look suspicious.
Angry but still cautious. No wonder the girls couldn’t rattle him.
Baxter finished his scan of his surroundings and climbed into the Rover. He headed north out of the parking lot. It appeared he was heading home. Or maybe to the bar for a drink. I imagined a strong drink might feel good after being blind-sided by an FBI agent and a pesky reporter. However, Baxter drove past the bar, took two rights, and started heading south. Maybe he’s heading back to the hotel. That would be a ballsy move.
As he headed south, Baxter started to drive erratically. Aimlessly. He was making unnecessary turns with unpredictable changes in speed. At one traffic light, he remained stopped for several seconds after the light turned green.
Holy crap, he’s looking for a tail. What is he up to?
Evan’s actions forced me to go around his vehicle to avoid suspicion. After I passed his Land Rover, Baxter accelerated and started following me, forcing me to turn into a drugstore parking lot. Half of me hoped he would follow me into the parking lot to confront me. The other half hoped I had fooled him into thinking I was a non-threat.
I waited until Baxter was completely out of sight before speeding out of the parking lot, hoping I had not lost him. His vehicle was not on the street ahead of me, meaning he had turned left or right again. I had lost him temporarily.
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